


Just Your Touch

by syriala



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-27 01:01:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15674862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syriala/pseuds/syriala
Summary: Ever since the resurrection Peter felt unsettled. His wolf was snarling in his head, an anxious mess right under his skin, and Peter’s instincts were wreaking havoc on him. He had to stop himself from flashing his eyes or growling at everyone almost every second of every day and it was taking a toll on him.He didn’t know what was wrong.





	Just Your Touch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [red_crate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_crate/gifts).



> This is for Mads, who bid on me and won! She asked for some touch-starved Deter, and so that's what she'll get. I hope you enjoy it <3

Ever since the resurrection Peter felt unsettled. His wolf was snarling in his head, an anxious mess right under his skin, and Peter’s instincts were wreaking havoc on him. He had to stop himself from flashing his eyes or growling at everyone almost every second of every day and it was taking a toll on him.

He didn’t know what was wrong, but he guessed that something with the resurrection must have gone wrong. It was the only explanation. So, once the kanima mess was dealt with, every teenager saved and of sane mind again, Peter left. He had to find the texts detailing the ritual again; the ones he read all those years ago burned with his family, but he knew there were copies out there. He needed to get them, to find the mistake he made with the ritual.

When Peter came back to Beacon Hills, weeks after he left, several books and texts in his bag, he was on the brink of insanity again. He could feel it, his wolf pushing and snarling under his skin, devouring his sane mind with a speed that frightened Peter. The resurrection had originally made him saner, but now Peter wondered if it wasn’t just a temporary thing. If he would lose his mind again, and snap, killing the only remaining family he had.

He had wanted to stay away, stay out of the loft until he had figured it out, undid whatever he did wrong the first time, but his accounts weren’t unfrozen yet, and Peter didn’t actually have another place to stay at.

So, he poured the texts over Derek’s table, hoping to find the solution quickly, so that he wouldn’t put Derek into any more unnecessary danger, but after three days of reading he had to admit that maybe it would be more complicated than that.

Peter barely remembered his preparations for the ritual, couldn’t remember what drew him to Lydia in the first place or what he told her to do once he was dead and it considerably slowed him down. Plus, he only got two of the texts in their original language, so Peter had to painstakingly translate them.

And all the time his wolf was getting more and more restless, pushing and pulling and every noise startled Peter, drew his fangs and claws out. It eventually got the point where he was unable to retract his claws and he wondered if he wasn’t so much as losing his mind but going feral. Though he didn’t like that idea any better, because his pack bond with Derek was very much intact.

He might never have expected Derek to end up as his alpha, but Peter couldn’t say that he minded it too much. Now that Derek got over his posturing, he would be a good alpha, steady and strong, and he would care for his packmates. Peter could feel it in the bond already; he shouldn’t be going feral at all.

Especially since Derek was always around, though Peter had done his very best to chase him out of the loft during the day. He was afraid Derek would get to close or do something that would upset his wolf and that he would attack, without regard for who Derek was.

And Peter couldn’t even imagine hurting Derek; couldn’t imagine doing to him the same he had done to Laura in his insanity. It still hurt him, that he had killed his niece like that and Peter had promised himself that if he ever hurt Derek, in any way, he would end his own miserable existence.

Derek was too important, too precious to Peter and he wouldn’t ever stand for hurting him, insane or not.

But Derek was always there, always around, apparently keeping an eye on Peter, and Peter’s wolf was pushing towards him. The urge got stronger every day, or maybe Peter just grew weaker with every day, but he wasn’t sure how long he would be able to keep his wolf in check anymore.

So far he hadn’t found the mistake he made though, didn’t know where he had gone wrong with the ritual and he was running out of texts and tomes. He had checked almost all of them, and nothing stood out. Maybe wolves just weren’t made for resurrections and this was his punishment for trying to upset the natural order.

“Peter,” Derek said as he suddenly put a cup of coffee down next to the text Peter was translating.

Peter’s eyes were burning, ready to just fall shut, but Peter dreaded what his wolf would get up to if he was unconscious with Derek in the loft. He hadn’t slept in almost two days.

“Peter, you need to take a break,” Derek softly said when Peter didn’t react beyond grabbing for the coffee and downing the cup in almost in one go.

“No,” he gave back as he put the cup down, subtly inching further away from Derek, who frowned at him and radiated worry.

Everything in Peter screamed to get closer to Derek, push his face into his neck and finally breathe in that familiar scent again, and by now Peter didn’t even know anymore how much of that was the wolf and how much was him. He _missed_ Derek, but he couldn’t trust his wolf, couldn’t trust it to not take the opportunity and rip out Derek’s throat.

Peter had considered becoming alpha again, when he was searching for the texts, but it hadn’t made him any saner the first time. It would just give him more power to hurt Derek.

“Then let me help at least,” Derek pleaded. “You’ve been at it for days now. I know there’s no new threat in town, so I don’t even know what you’re doing.”

“It’s none of your business,” Peter snapped, fangs growing in his mouth and he was aware that his eyes were glowing blue again, too.

He had lost the ability to control that almost as soon as he had left Beacon Hills. It had made for a few interesting weeks.

“Peter, please. I just want to help,” Derek pleaded again, and Peter turned away from him, shielding the text from his eyes and turning his back to Derek.

His fingers were shaking, claws threatening to rip the parchment in his hands apart. It didn’t need much imagination that he could do the same to Derek, rip into his flesh so easily and Peter was horrified by himself.

He had always known he was capable of doing horrible things, but just the idea of hurting Derek like that, using his trust against him, like so many had before, it made Peter’s stomach turn.

“I just want to help you,” Derek whispered and reached out.

Peter didn’t see it early enough, and he startled badly when Derek grabbed his shoulder. He jerked away, feeling the touch like a brand on his skin and he tried very hard not to notice Derek’s hurt face.

“You can’t help me,” Peter snapped at him, putting even more distance between them, in case Derek got any more stupid ideas, like touching an almost feral werewolf.

Derek pressed his lips together and he smelt so overwhelmingly like grief and regret that Peter had to breathe through his mouth. Derek regarded him for a few more moments before he gave a jerky nod and walked away, shoulders set into a stiff line and slamming the door behind him as he left the loft.

Peter itched to call him back, still feeling Derek’s hand on his shoulder. He realized for the first time that his wolf was silent. It wasn’t snarling or pushing against him. Quite the opposite really; Peter almost felt settled, his wolf content in his mind, and it felt like it all radiated from the still burning touch on his shoulder.

“Fuck,” Peter whispered when it finally hit him, and he brought a hand up to cradle his shoulder, as if he could keep the lingering impression of Derek’s touch there longer that way.

He hadn’t messed up the ritual, he wasn’t going insane again; he was going feral because he was touch starved.

Derek had been the only one who had touched him after his resurrection and even that had been months ago. Wolves were tactile creatures by nature, and even humans needed regular contact. Neither of those instincts had been satisfied lately and his wolf had just tried to get close to Derek to get the touch it so desperately needed.

It didn’t want to hurt Derek, it wanted to cuddle up to him.

Peter started to laugh when the stress of the last days finally fell off him, because this should be easy enough to rectify. Derek should have the instinct to strengthen the pack bonds to his betas by touch, so Peter shouldn’t have a hard time convincing Derek to touch him again.

Feeling lighter than he had in days, Peter packed everything up, before he went to bed to finally sleep for the first time in days. If he did lose control while he was out, he was sure that nothing more than pack cuddles would happen.

~*~*~

Derek was not cooperating.

He had raised an eyebrow at the now empty table, something like hurt flashing over his face when he saw it, but he hadn’t asked Peter about his research again. And every time Peter tried to reach out for him, Derek shied away from his touch.

At first Peter had thought it was a coincidence; Derek turning away from him just as Peter was reaching out to grab his arm, getting up when Peter sat too close on the couch, moving out of the somewhat tiny kitchen as soon as Peter entered.

But after a week, Peter had to admit that maybe Derek was doing it on purpose, that he just didn’t want to be touched by Peter.

Every time Peter started to reach out for Derek, he leaned back. It seemed almost unconscious on his part, like there was some kind of magnetic field that always demanded the same distance between them. It always made Peter falter in his movement, hand hovering half raised between them, and by the time Derek finally noticed what was happening, Peter was already retracting his hand. It was still enough to make Derek frown and after a few days Peter stopped trying.

Derek’s instinctual reaction spoke volumes and whenever it happened, something in Peter’s chest constricted. He had always known that what he had done to Laura and Derek would be hard to forgive, but he had hoped, that Derek would find it in him to put the past behind them.

The worst part was that Peter really couldn’t blame anyone else but himself for the gaping distance between them. He still loved Derek, had always loved him, but he had to accept that Derek felt nothing but hate for him.

Peter’s wolf was going crazy again; it had been too long since Derek had touched them, and even though Peter went to the Jungle in hopes of appeasing his wolf, it hadn’t really worked. The touch of strangers wasn’t what his wolf wanted or needed. It appeased the immediate urge, but that was it. His wolf was still always snarling in his head, and no touch from a stranger brought Peter the same contentment that Derek’s touch had. His wolf wanted Derek’s touch, and nothing else would suffice.

But Derek always kept some space between them, moving out of reach whenever Peter even just took a step into his direction. It was a pretty effective way to ensure that Peter never got a chance to touch him.

It took Peter some time but after two weeks of this very awkward dance, Peter finally realized what was wrong. It was glaringly obvious, just like the fact that he was touch starved had been, and Peter blamed his instincts wracking havoc on him for not noticing earlier.

Derek didn’t just hate him. He also was afraid of him.

His scent always went slightly bitter when Peter reached out for him and once Peter finally noticed that it all fell into place.

Peter had killed Laura, had attacked and hurt almost all of them, and the one time Derek had reached out Peter had reacted almost violently, his control so thin it was barely there at all, and of course Derek must fear that he was going off the rails again.

Peter had thought the same after all, and Derek had all the reasons to fear Peter. That this knowledge was nearly killing Peter with regret didn’t matter. But Peter was desperate to let Derek know that he didn’t have to fear anything from Peter, that Peter would rather kill himself than ever hurt Derek.

So, when he came home to the loft and found Derek standing at the table, reading over something, he decided that now was the time to at least clear that between them.

He walked up to Derek, deliberately making noise, but Derek didn’t turn around and he didn’t tense either. Peter stopped right behind Derek, and he reached out for him, hand slightly trembling where it hang in the air for a few seconds as he waited for Derek’s instinctual response.

But it didn’t happen and finally Peter gently touched his fingertips to Derek’s back, right over the place where the triskelion was, and he could feel Derek tense under his light touch.

“Please don’t be afraid of me,” Peter whispered before Derek could move away and put some space between them again.

Peter almost flinched when Derek whirled around, but he stood his ground. He needed to know if Derek could ever forgive him, if he would ever feel safe around him or not. Peter was sure that if the answer was no, his heart would shatter right where he stood, but he needed to know. Seeing Derek this tense around him hurt as well after all.

“You idiot,” Derek breathed and darted forward to hug Peter tight. “I’ve never been afraid of you,” Derek whispered into Peter’s hair and Peter shuddered, overwhelmed by the touch.

Derek was pressing Peter tightly to him, their bodies touching almost from head to toe and before Peter even raised his arms to return the hug he started to shake all over. It was almost too much after all this time without Derek’s touch.

“You kept your distance,” Peter mumbled, as he tightened his grip in Derek’s shirt, afraid that he would move away again. “You hate me.”

“I killed you,” Derek gave back, and Peter buried his face in Derek’s neck like he had longed to do for weeks now. “I thought you wanted nothing to do with me. I don’t hate you. I thought it was the other way around, actually.”

Peter thought back to the day Derek had reached out for him, and now that smell of guilt made a lot more sense, even if it was totally misplaced.

“I love you,” Peter mumbled into Derek’s neck. “I could never hate you.”

“Even after everything that happened?” Derek asked, and he sounded unsure, like Peter could ever do anything _but_ love him.

“Always, Derek,” Peter said back, and Derek sighed against him, squeezing Peter even tighter.

Peter reveled in the touch for a few minutes, his wolf contentedly purring in his mind, but eventually he pulled away, though he made sure to stay in contact, keeping his hands on Derek’s shoulders.

“What were you looking at? Is there a new threat?” Peter wanted to know, desperate to change the topic for a few minutes at least.

He felt slightly overwhelmed and he needed a short break.

“I was looking at your texts,” Derek sheepishly said and scratched his neck.

“What?” Peter asked and stepped forward to indeed find his books and texts on the table.

“I wanted to know what you were doing, if I could help. Why were you researching the ritual? Did something go wrong?” Derek asked, and there was nothing but worry in his voice.

“I thought so,” Peter admitted, and Derek immediately tensed before Peter smoothed a hand from his shoulder down his arm. “But it turned out I was just touch starved.”

“That should have been fine already,” Derek said with a frown. “You went to the Jungle.”

“Have you been following me?” Peter teased Derek and leaned in to nip at his jaw.

“Just to make sure you’re okay,” Derek gave back, though he couldn’t hide the blush on his cheeks. “You’re not back to your old strength and I didn’t want you to get hurt,” Derek admitted, and Peter stared at him for a few seconds.

“I don’t know how I deserve you,” he whispered and pulled Derek in, pressing a firm kiss to his lips, slinging his arm around Derek’s waist when he went heavy against him.

“Why didn’t the people at Jungle work?” Derek whispered against his lips after he pulled back the slightest bit.

“They weren’t you,” Peter replied, nosing at Derek’s cheek and temple, thoroughly scent marking him in the process and his wolf preened at the gesture, especially when Derek willingly tilted his head back, baring his neck.

Peter didn’t waste any time, rubbing his cheek over his throat as well, but after a few moments Derek pushed him away. Peter immediately went, fearing that he had went too far, but Derek’s eyes were glowing red, and when Peter bared his neck in response to his alpha a content grumble left Derek’s chest.

Derek leaned in to lick up Peter’s neck before he lightly bit into it, claiming Peter as his own, and then he dragged his cheek all the way up to Peter’s temple, catching Peter’s hands in his when they sneaked under his shirt.

“You’re the touch starved one,” Derek chided and pressed kiss after kiss to Peter’s hair. “I get to touch you now,” he declared and pulled Peter close again.

It wasn’t like Peter was complaining about that, so he went willingly, letting Derek manhandle him until he was tucked under Derek’s chin, almost curled up there, because Derek was leaning against the table.

Derek still had his arms securely around Peter, and Peter snuggled even closer, desperately drinking in every touch.

“I’ve got you now,” Derek whispered, rubbing his face over the top of Peter’s head and Peter couldn’t help the purr that started in his chest.

This was everything he had needed and wanted.


End file.
